Start Over
by ricetard
Summary: Draco's not quite sure where he is or why he was invited to this party in the first place. But when he asks Harry, Harry simply answers, "Because I want to start over." Slash. Slightly AU. Drarry. Oneshot. A X-Mas present.


**Start Over**

**A/N:**_ slightly AU-ish_

_For my husband Brooke, for Christmas~_

--

Draco was wearing a St. Nicholas hat.

Given, so was the great Harry Potter. But still.

Actually, Harry looked quite nice in the hat. It was red and green plaid, looked slightly Irish, and the bell at the end jangled a bit every time he moved his head in laughter as he greeted the kids at the door. The green part really brought out Harry's eyes. And he looked rather cute in it.

Not that that was, you know, what Draco was thinking.

He also didn't call Harry Potter by his first name in his head. The same way he totally didn't call him by his surname out loud. But, you know.

He--Draco, not Harry/Potter whom Draco was staring at--itched under his holiday hat and watched as Harry was talking along with the people at the door. In the back of his mind, Draco was wondering what the hell this room was. During the winter holidays, all of the stupid conflicts between the Houses, much less the rest of the world, had stopped for the season, on account of families and friends and loving festivities. The great Harry Potter (or the Great Harry Potter as Draco often referred to in his mind, with a capital "g") had decided to throw a party and invited everyone in the school, including the Slytherins. Draco had thought that he personally would have been excluded, but then he received an invitation and directions to this somewhat familiar room too, found on his bed like everyone else.

In the front of his mind, however, he was admiring how pretty Harry looked with his crooked glasses and colorful festive hat. Draco took a sip of his Butterbeer. Damn hormones.

He itches under his hat. Damn wizarding fabric, too.

(Actually, Muggles and wizards shared the same fabric. Not that Draco would admit this.)

Harry seemed to have finished welcoming all the guests inside. He turned from the room's entrance--Draco glanced around and realized that there were no teachers, only students--and then stood up on a table to address everyone. Draco perked his head up considerably and subconsciously glanced around again to make sure no one had noticed him staring.

"Shall we start?" Harry grinned, and nearly everyone in the room cheered. A few close to Draco in the small pub-like area lifted their drinks up, while others were socializing around the room, atop sofas and loveseats and other such things. The Slytherins, however, barely made an attempt to call out with any enthusiasm, but Draco did try to raise his own hand in support. Harry didn't seem to mind though, much less notice at all as he went to the radio and flicked his wand at it. Music started blasting throughout the room, and Draco let his mind wander while the party went on. He didn't really care much about it, since he felt oddly left out. He wondered why he had come, let alone why he was invited, in the first place.

He also wondered why he wasn't standing or talking to anyone without that Slytherin swagger he always carried, or why he couldn't take his gaze off of Harry, who was talking to Weasel and Granger now. Ah, well. His eyes were trapped on the so-called "Chosen One" though Draco never forgot him as the cute, intriguing raven-haired boy he had first met in the ice cream shop. Now, years later, he was watching him and realized how badly he _really wanted_ to kiss those pink, pink lips.

Ahem. Not that he actually thought that. He just realized it. Anywho.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Draco suddenly jumped. He turned to the source of this voice, and realized that Harry was standing beside him, even though he could _swear_ that he had just been staring at Harry a little ways off. Not that it really mattered now. Draco was currently gawking at the boy, who was looking more festive than ever. The fake snow that Granger had probably magicked from the ceiling was glittering off of Harry's face, and although Draco had been wiping them away unconsciously from the time he had been here, the bespectacled boy didn't care at all. And, if possible, it just made him look prettier.

"Yeah, um." Draco cleared his throat and felt incredily awkward at Harry's...well, non-hostility towards him. "I'm great."

"Good. I was afraid that you weren't," Harry said to him. But instead of turning away to check on other people like Draco had expected him to, instead when he looked up, he saw him watching him inquisitively his head to the side by the slightest. "You sure? You're not...doing much."

"I'm talking to you," Draco replied.

Harry actually laughed. "And that's enough? Malfoy, you must be joking. Who would have thought that you'd be graced by such a presence like mine?"

"Well you're irresistable to everyone. Even the bad guys," Draco said, not refraining from the playful banter. Harry laughed again, and this gave Draco the courage to keep talking.

"Why did you invite me, anyways?" he asked him. Harry turned to look at him, and his eyes were shimmering in amusement behind hid glasses.

"Why not? I don't really care about _us_," he replied. "It's Christmastime! I shouldn't think about that rubbish. And I was going to invite the rest of the Slytherins, anyways. Just think of it as a...time to start over."

"To start over?" Draco furrowed his eyebrows. Harry nodded, seeming sincere from the smile that was still on his face.

"Yes, to start over. Malfoy, if you didn't notice, the only reason I really hate you is because you hate me."

"So does that mean we shouldn't hate each other anymore?" Draco asked.

"I'd say that's a good step," said Harry, his lips curled. He slung his wand over his shoulder, and then suddenly looked up. "Oh look, mistletoe."

"What?" Draco said bemusedly, but he barely had time to realize what was happening when Harry suddenly pressed his lips against Draco's own, and then pulled back and looked at him. The expression on Draco's face was unchanged as his brain was trying to register what was happening. Harry was still smiling, but it seemed much more nervous now. He was scanning Draco's face, like it would give a hint to what he was feeling, but Draco didn't quite know what he was feeling himself. Around them, possibly a few people might have seen the kiss, but if they had, then now they were currently gaping and unable to repeat such an event.

Harry looked back up to the mistletoe, pointedly avoiding Draco's bewildered gaze now. "Though, mistletoe doesn't grow on stone," he continued from what he had been saying before. His face was a nice shade of pink, though. It went well with the hat. Draco adjusted his own, snapped out of the daze.

"What?" he asked, though this time it wasn't shocked--rather, it was more...like, what the hell was that for? Harry reddened even harder.

"An attempt to start over?" he suggested rather sheepishly.

Draco stated at him for a full one hundred and twenty seconds. And then a grin broke onto his face, as he leaned in and pecked Harry back on the lips, only to return the kiss he hadn't reacted to under the mistletoe--which they were still standing under, by the way. Harry seemed equally astounded.

"Then yes, Potter. We can start over," Draco responded to him.

Harry didn't seem to believe Draco's words this time. But as he beamed at him, unblinking, Harry grabbed the back of his head across their arms and pressed their moths together for a third time. They both kissed each other this time, and whrn they paused for a moment, Draco's palm against Harry's face, both stared at each other in astonishment at this turn of events. Buy Draco pulled their faces in back together, closing the gap and smiling against his lips. Yes. He definitely wouldn't mind starting over.


End file.
